


Heart of Ice

by AveChameleon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Artistic Liberties, Canonical Character Death, Love at First Sight, Other, Tournament of Power-Anime, Tragic Romance, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveChameleon/pseuds/AveChameleon
Summary: Of all the things Frieza found at the Tournament of Power, love was by far the most unexpected.
Relationships: Frieza/Frost (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Heart of Ice

He would never admit it. He would die before admitting it. But he was nervous. He was powerful, yes. He could crush mighty heroes without a thought; he could destroy planets with the flick of a finger. Only rarely had he even met a challenge, and the few times he’d been surpassed had only spurred him to grow stronger still. He was, without argument, one of the most powerful beings in the entire universe.

His universe.

But here, in this strange swirling realm where reality both existed and did not, gathered the best of _every_ universe. He had grown used to those he could consider near-equals in his own realm; he knew their strengths, their weaknesses. But these strangers—they were enigmas. Was it possible their power might actually exceed his own? He hated to think so. But there was a time, not very long ago, where he would have laughed at the very idea of any other being even coming close to his ability, his power. And look what happened then.

Frieza suppressed a shudder, kept his arrogant smirk on his lips. Mustn’t show weakness. Mustn’t show doubt. He was the Emperor; nothing fazed an emperor.

The other warriors of the Seventh Universe were gathered around, discussing the rules of the competition. Useless. He already knew them backwards and forwards. While they gathered together, he stood alone. Apart. Perhaps the others needed this prattle. He did not.

Arms crossed tightly, his eyes roamed the swirling void and he let his mind wander. The next hour would determine everything. Would he live again? Or would he be obliterated along with everything else? Either way, his existence would shift drastically. He willed himself to keep his tail from lashing with agitation. 

“Well, what have we here?” A voice, high-pitched and smooth, cut through the chatter and interrupted his drifting thoughts. Frieza turned, and all his doubts and worries were rapidly erased from his mind by shock.

Frieza knew he was part of a dying race. As far as he knew, now that his father and brother were dead, he was possibly the very last of his kind in the entire universe. But apparently, he was not the last in _all_ universes, because approaching his group was a form as familiar as his own reflection.

He was magnificent. His frame was more compact than Frieza’s own, cut with a well-defined musculature that left Frieza breathless. His skin was a cool white, highlighted by a magnificent shade of blue that set off the crimson of his narrow eyes. His thin lips were curved into an alluring smirk. And his tail—by all the gods, his tail. Frieza never could have imagined a tail that thick, that curved, that strong.

For a moment, Frieza dropped the tight control he'd been sustaining. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he could not stop a gasp from escaping him as his eyes drank in the vision of utter beauty that stood before him. He was flawless, glowing. He was like a diamond, scintillating ice turned into something precious and perfect.

Frieza barely managed to school his features back to indifference as the stunning vision turned eyes toward him. But despite all his self-control, when their eyes met he couldn’t quite stop the smile from spreading across his face. His heart increased its already accelerated tempo as he saw a matching smile reflected back.

He vaguely noticed the fighters of the Sixth greeting those of his own—apparently they were acquainted somehow. But the bulk of his attention was on the approaching creature.

“Greetings. I hardly expected one of my own kind here. There are so very few of us,” said the blue-skinned beauty. “My name is Frost.”

Frieza found his voice. “Indeed. A surprise to be sure. I am called Frieza.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming Frost’s body, inspecting every inch.

Frost noticed his gaze. “Pleased with what you see?” He turned to regard the swirling void, but his stance was inviting rather than dismissive.

Frieza chuckled. “I apologize for my rudeness. I simply am unused to seeing anyone with a similar physique.” Unable to mask the astonishment in his voice, he said, “It’s like gazing in a mirror. I’d describe our physical appearance as almost identical.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew he was not quite correct. In fact, his eyes lingered on the differences—the sharper nose, the thinner lips emphasizing Frost’s stark allure. If he had been identical, he would not be nearly so lovely.

“Some differences, perhaps,” Frost teased. “For example, I haven’t your exquisite taste in headgear.”

Frieza was confused for a brief moment until he remembered. _Oh. Yes._ “A regrettable incident. Unfortunately, I am currently dead.” He rather enjoyed the confusion and shock that appeared on the other’s face.

“Dead? But how-“ Frost broke off. Gathering himself he continued. “How fascinating. And yet here you are. Most fortunate for me. And yourself, I imagine.” He hesitated, as though fearing to broach a sensitive topic. He reached out a tentative hand. When Frieza did not pull away, Frost touched his arm gently, as though to determine whether it was actually there; Frieza forced himself to suppress a soft gasp at the contact. “How can you be here, if you’re dead?”

“A long and unfortunate story, involving unpleasantly powerful monkeys.” He threw a glance over his shoulder.

Frost chuckled, but without malice. “I understand. I tasted a bit of that myself not long ago. In fact, I'm rather hoping to have a chance to even out a score with that smaller one. Detestable little primates, aren’t they?”

Frieza smiled. “Yet another thing we have in common. However, I currently require their assistance for my survival. And a reversal of my unfortunate state.”

Frost looked at him curiously. “A special prize?”

“If I assist them in the tournament, and we survive, I will have my life returned. If not for that, I would kill them all myself. And of course, the fact that I will be erased with my universe should we fail.”

Frost looked at him for a long moment before turning back to the void. He spoke in a low voice. “That would be…most unfortunate.”

“Indeed.” They were silent for a moment before Frieza spoke again. “I wonder how deep our similarities go? For instance, I wonder if our personalities share the same belief that might makes right.” Surely, it was too good to be true.

Frost threw an enticing glance over his shoulder. “Indeed, I concur.” Malice and amusement embraced in his voice. Oh yes; Frieza had no doubt that this creature in front of him could be magnificently cruel.

“How charming. Then we should get along quite well.” The two Ice Djinn chuckled together amiably.

Frieza suppressed a shiver as he saw the other’s eyes slowly traveling over his body with undisguised approval. “I can tell you are very…right, indeed,” Frost said with a smile. “Your power is incredible. You must hold entire worlds in the palm of your hand.”

Frieza smiled. “While I was alive, entire galaxies were under my thumb. Even now, the moment I return to life I have armies waiting for me. Assuming they are not destroyed in the next hour, of course,” he said with a snicker.

“Amazing.” The admiration in Frost’s voice and eyes warmed Frieza in a curious way. Why should this creature’s approval make him feel so strongly? “I had an army myself, though I prefer to work rather in the shadows. But,” he cut off, “that is a story for another time. It appears as though the games are about to begin. As strange as it is, I must wish you luck, Frieza.”

Frieza felt a smile curl his lips involuntarily. “And the same to you, Frost.” His mouth caressed the name as it left. “As long as your luck does not disadvantage myself, of course.” They smiled at each other in mutual understanding.

Frieza hesitated before articulating his next thought. His mouth was dry, his chest was crushed with trepidation. But he had never been a coward. He took a deep breath and voiced his proposition. “We have so much in common,” he said. “What would you say to us teaming up on the sly?” He trusted Frost was intelligent enough to read between the lines. He waited, his breath held in anticipation, for the answer.

“Oh, yes.” Frieza’s heart jumped at the eager purr in the returned answer. “By all means.” A thrill ran through him, a sensation he’d never felt before, never before believed he _could_ feel.

Frost looked around to make certain there were no interlopers, then spoke in a low voice. “As the battle progresses, the smooth floor of the arena is sure to be broken. When that occurs, I will find a place to meet…privately. Find me. When the time is right.” With that, Frost walked away to return to his own universe’s fighters. Frieza’s eyes tracked his every step, memorizing his form. His body was burning with an unknown and unfamiliar longing. Frost was scintillating, exquisite, flawless. A diamond. The wait ahead of him threatened impending torture, but he was certain the reward would be sweeter than he could imagine.

* * *

The battle was raging, but Frieza didn’t care.

Normally, this would have his heart pumping with delight in the destruction and bloodlust that surrounded him, as he waited for someone to be at a disadvantage so he could grab a chance for torment and pain. And yet, somehow, his heart wasn’t quite in it. All the maiming in the galaxy paled in comparison to the experience he was anticipating. His heart was pumping for an entirely different reason.

He still watched, determining weaknesses and jumping in when he judged the odds were sufficiently in his favor. But he was distracted—he found himself taking blows he should be able to dodge, failing to properly dispose of fallen foes. It was unlike him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care as his mind kept returning to Frost’s words. _Find me. When the time is right._ The memory of it, of the way the soft voice caressed the words, sent a thrill down his back.

He tried to talk himself out of it. Should he show? Should he not? _It’s a distraction. I can’t afford a distraction. Too much is at stake._ He knew, logically, Frost was an opponent. A dangerous one that should be dealt with. Yet…something in him would not let this fact matter. Nothing seemed to matter except the smooth sapphire of a chest, the quirk of thin lips into a small smile.

The thought of what awaited him ignited a fierce joy in him, bringing him into a pleasant cruelty. He had always struggled to control his emotions, but at this moment the anticipation was ungovernable, burning him alive on a glorious pyre. The pure exhilaration drove him to heights of sadism he’d rarely reached before. _Even my foes must sense it_ , he thought as some winged creature threw itself out of the ring solely from the expression he saw on Frieza’s face.

Time passed, and combatants fell. The smooth floor began to accumulate craters and debris. Yet it was still far too exposed for any rendezvous. He pushed down the impatience and attempted to focus on the task at hand, but the agitation increased despite his best efforts. _When will it be time?_ he thought as he paced, watching the combat with pursed lips and furrowed brows.

Only after the strange female monkey lost her mind did there finally begin to be the kind of cover needed. After what seemed like eons, Frieza judged that the floor of the arena was sufficiently torn. One last time, he hesitated. _This is foolish_ , he thought. _Concentrate on your own survival._ But the voice of reason was too weak, and the desire too strong. He sought out Frost, feeling for his energy though it was a difficult task when surrounded by so many strong energies. But he was driven. At the last it turned out that though he had been the seeker, as he searched among enormous pieces of boulder-sized rubble he was the one who was found.

“I hoped you’d come,” Frost said quietly. “I thought you might have changed your mind.”

Frieza nearly laughed. Change his mind? He’d tried. "How could I possibly have stayed away?"

A surprisingly shy smile was the response. “Here. I have found a place safe from the eyes of even the gods.” Frost grabbed his hand and pulled him into a small nook where two boulders had crashed together. As soon as they were safely hidden away from sight, Frieza found himself being pushed gently but firmly against the rocky wall. He had no time to react before all thought was driven from him as blue lips met purple.

Frieza knew what a kiss was. He’d spent enough time around the lesser species that he knew their strange breeding rituals, the odd obsession they had with mating. He had always been curious why they seemed to wish to press their lips together. The very idea seemed repellent and he’d always classed it in the same enigmas as their inane “genders” and uselessly vulnerable external genitalia—disgustingly primitive and self-defeating.

But here, with Frost’s soft cold flesh meeting his own, he finally understood. How such simple contact could send a burst of electricity and rapture through his entire body, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he wanted more.

His hands reached for Frost, pulling him closer. He returned the kiss with the desperation of a starved beast finding food. Frost returned his hunger, hands roaming across white skin. His tail snaked behind Frieza to wrap around his own, and Frieza gasped in pleasure as it was given a firm squeeze. He lost himself in a flood of unprecedented sensation.

Frost was the first to pull away. “Hmm. That was pleasant.”

Frieza found his voice. “Indeed.” Hesitantly, he asked, “Shall we continue?”

Frost stroked Frieza’s cheek with the back of his hand, causing Frieza's breath to catch. “I would love nothing more. You are so very beautiful.”

Frieza gasped as a shiver ran through his body. Him? Beautiful? This perfect creature was calling _him_ beautiful? He could barely hear the sound of distant battle through the beating of his heart.

Frost continued, “I have never met anyone so…” He ran a finger across Frieza’s full purple lips before continuing, “so _lush_ before. Nor so powerful. Your superiority stuns me; I cannot even imagine what I could learn from you if you chose to teach me.”

The admiration in those scintillating eyes moved something inside Frieza. He couldn’t find his voice, answering only by pressing his lips against the other’s once more. His hands moved themselves around Frost’s neck, and they crashed together, greedily drinking each other’s presence until the wave broke and they pulled apart.

Frost looked at him hungrily, but he seemed a bit hesitant when he spoke. “I hope…I can meet expectations. It has been…some time since I last met with one of our kind.”

Frieza chuckled. “Perhaps it will put your mind at ease to know that you are the first of our kind I have ever met, aside from my father and brother. And even I am not _that_ twisted.”

A predatory smile crossed Frost’s face. “Is that so? In that case, perhaps there are things that _I_ can teach _you_.” He pulled Frieza close, erasing all distance between their two bodies.

And there, in their hidden nook, Frost taught him the definition of ecstasy.

* * *

Later, they lay limbs entwined, blue forehead pressed to purple. Frost’s tail gently stroked Frieza’s spine from base of his skull to the root of his own tail and back up, the rhythm hypnotic and soothing.

Frost whispered as though afraid to break a spell. “You are simply magnificent.”

There was no answer to give other than the press of lips and bodies. Cool blue-tinged arms wrapped around Frieza, and he closed his eyes. Never before had he felt so…safe. So warm.

“I suppose if you win the tournament you will return to your empire?” Frost murmured softly.

“Yes.” He’d dreamed of it for years, the glory of conquest and the indescribable feeling of crushing worlds beneath his foot. These visions had kept him sane through the tortures of hell. Yet at this moment, compared to laying pressed together like this, they seemed oddly colorless.

“It is regrettable we are on different teams. One of us must necessarily fail to survive the tournament, yet…” Frost’s usually confident voice wavered. He brought up a hand, gently stroking Frieza’s cheek. “Neither option seems palatable.”

“No,” Frieza admitted in a murmur. That was an understatement. He had no wish to be destroyed, of course. But something deep inside his chest ached with an intensity that shocked him, when he thought of his lover, his diamond, being lost to him. Frieza was not a believer in luck and was never one to rail against fate; yet at this moment he cursed whatever cruel twist had brought this contentment to him only to pull it away as he grasped it.

They were both quiet a moment. “Perhaps—” Frost began quietly. “Perhaps I may have a solution. It would require a bit of...subterfuge. Something that I would guess, based on my own nature, that you are quite skilled at?”

Frieza looked expectantly into Frost’s crimson eyes. “You believe there is a way to change our fate?”

Frost gave a small smile. “Lord Champa is desperate to triumph over his brother. Were you to help eliminate the Seventh Universe, perhaps…perhaps I might convince him that you be considered part of our own universe.”

A warm bud of hope bloomed in Frieza’s chest. “Do you think that would truly work?”

“Perhaps. It would require you turning on your own.” Frost gave a soft smile. “Yet I feel that will not likely be a barrier for you, my Emperor.”

Hardly. Only the threat of annihilation currently prevented him from destroying those cursed monkeys. If he could eliminate them safely, while simultaneously gaining...this? There was nothing in all the universes he would balk at. He said nothing, trusting the wicked grin on his face answered for him.

Frost pressed his lips against Frieza’s in a deep but surprisingly gentle kiss. “My universe is soft. It would benefit from a strong hand. Worlds will fall before us. We will be unstoppable together.”

Together. The word reverberated through him like a bell struck by a hammer. To have Frost beside him while massacring those foolish enough to resist? To watch his beautiful body cut through armies like a scythe? Frieza closed his eyes at the beauty of the thought. _To wake every morning like this._

His mouth was dry as he replied. “That would be…pleasant.” He pressed his forehead once more against the other, breathing in his presence as though relishing a fine perfume.

They both sensed the disturbance simultaneously. A wave of divine energy rocked through the arena, identical to one they’d felt before. Another universe had been eliminated. They looked at each other, dismayed.

“We…had better go, I suppose,” Frieza said reluctantly.

“Yes. I suppose we must.” Neither moved.

Frieza closed his eyes. This haven, this paradise, like all good things must now end. Was it weak of him to wish to savor one more second?

Frost was the one to pull away, reluctantly. “If we don’t fight, another universe may win. Then we’d both be gone.”

Frieza took a deep breath. Frost was right. He stood, looking one more time at the beautiful form that had lain beside him. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Frost…stay safe.”

A soft smile. “And you, Frieza. I would wish to see you, after this.”

So much left unsaid. Frieza turned and walked out.

The battle continued. Frieza did his best, held his own against whatever opponents dared cross him. Few even found him, and those who did tried to steer clear. Frieza couldn’t seem to care. Battle…seemed so useless now. Pointless. As long as he survived. And as long as _he_ survived. His diamond.

All the fighters seemed busy with each other; Frieza, with no immediate threats, found himself drawn to his natural role of observer. And despite his best intentions, he found himself watching _him_. He watched as Frost stalked his prey, delighting at the speed and grace and power he embodied in battle. The beautiful cruelty as he toyed with his opponents, as he maximized their pain and fear. He ached with want as Frost displayed his brilliant mind, finding new techniques and luring even the cleverest foes into unbeatable traps—by all the gods, he wanted this by his side.

A few fools tried to engage Frieza in battle, distracting his attention for a bit. He quickly fought them off, but when he returned to his vigil, he found Frost cornered by some Yardrat from the Second Universe. His back was to the edge of the arena, and he was being steadily pushed back as the ugly pink creature attacked from each side, teleporting too quickly for a counterattack.

Frost’s foot slipped partially off the side, and he looked backward with wide eyes. Frieza’s heart froze as he saw the Yardrat notice the distraction and prepare for a finishing blow.

 _No!_ His breath stopped. He was too far away to stop the attack. But maybe, if he pushed himself off the side and aimed a ki blast at Frost, he could push him back into the ring…

Even as it came, Frieza realized this impulse was the very definition of idiocy. In theory, it made no difference which one of them was eliminated as long as one of their universes was the victor. And it was by no means certain that this deal would hold. Even if Frost held up his end, even if he cared enough to hold up his end, there was no guarantee that he would be spared by the gods. Were he to sacrifice his position in the ring for his beautiful counterpart, it would dramatically lower his own likelihood of survival. And yet…the idea that Frost might live, even if he did not, was…fulfilling somehow.

But there was no need. He had underestimated his lover. At the last moment, Frost’s lips twitched into a smirk as he pivoted to the side. The momentum of the attack carried his opponent off the side of the arena instead. The little pink vermin gasped in surprise but managed to teleport off somewhere before falling. Presumably back to the arena; it didn’t matter where. Frost was safe. Frieza sighed and smiled.

The relief lasted only a moment, until he began to realize what had just happened. What he had nearly done. When it reached his consciousness, he was stunned. _Wait._ _Was I **truly** considering giving myself to save him?_ he thought with a growing horror. He had come within seconds of uselessly offering himself up for annihilation. _What was I thinking?_ He didn’t know which disturbed him more, the momentary drive to risk his own life, or the pain in his chest that had come when thinking of Frost’s destruction. That remained, when he allowed himself to picture his diamond falling into the void.

His heart slowly foundered in the wave of realization. How could this have happened? How had he _allowed_ this to happen? He had always been proudly selfish, had kept himself strong by any means needed. There was nothing he would not risk for his own advantage. He would, and had, destroyed his own planets, betrayed his own armies, given up his own flesh and blood if it gave him the slightest benefit. How, then, could he even consider losing _everything_ , for another? Even if it was the person he…

 _A weakness_ , he thought with a terrified wonder. _I have allowed myself—_

No. This was impossible. Intolerable. He was the Emperor of the Universe. He was strength itself. He had no weaknesses. Any he’d found had been ruthlessly crushed at the first opportunity.

Weaknesses were meant to be eliminated.

Frieza realized with a sickening clarity what was required. What he _must_ do to prevent this poison from spreading. He began to lay his plans. And as he did, he endeavored to shut out the thing inside him that was pleading for him to stop. To crush the voice that was contending that the pleasure, the contentment, he had found in Frost’s arms was worth the weakness. That was begging him not to give up his only chance, his only hope of happiness.

Happiness.

How stupid.

* * *

His plan went perfectly, of course. Only at the end was there a moment of hesitation. His energy scorched him as he gathered it in his hand, readying the blast that would take his weakness from him. _It’s not too late_ , the traitor in his heart whispered, pleading. _The God of the Sixth would welcome you. The plan can still work_. _You can still go with him._ Frieza ignored it. This was necessary.

This was necessary.

The air was thick, viscous; he struggled to breathe, to move. Every second stretched until it screamed in torture as he watched his leaden arm raise for the blast. He saw the satisfaction and pride in Frost's lovely eyes shift, first to confusion and then to shock as he began to understand Frieza's intent.

"Never trust anybody." He spoke with a quiet insistence. Frieza didn't know if he was speaking to Frost, or to himself.

He fired. One more contestant eliminated. One step closer to survival.

Frost materialized in the stands, hurling invective. Frieza clenched his teeth with enough force that he almost felt them crack, striving to keep his arrogant smirk on his lips. Mustn’t show weakness. Mustn’t show doubt. He was the Emperor; nothing fazed an emperor.

The hurt and betrayal on the lovely face, the pain in the voice that had once caressed his name, shot like a lance through his heart. Frieza nearly sobbed as he realized it was not enough. He had not gone far enough. How often would his thoughts, his attention, be drawn like a magnet to the magnificent creature, leaving him vulnerable? How long until he stooped to justifying himself, explaining himself, asking forgiveness like a coward? How long until he succumbed to the desire to throw himself off the ring, to rejoin him for the few short minutes they would both have left?

Half measures would not do. Not in this case.

He had always been truly gifted at combat. Not only of the body. Combat of the mind, of words spoken to disrupt an opponent’s concentration, was equally important to win battles. And he was equally as skilled. Frost was beyond the reach of his hands, but not his voice. He pulled out the words past the ache in his chest, the stone in his throat. Frieza closed his eyes, unable to look him in the face as he delivered the killing blow.

“You were never worthy of my time.”

The lie flowed out smoothly. No one else could hear the crystalline shatter echoing simultaneously from the stands and the arena. Frieza turned his back but could not block the wave of pain and rage at his dismissal, his denial of what they had, what they had meant to each other. Was it from Frost? From himself? It hardly mattered. The purpose was achieved. He had incited Frost past the point of rationality, provoked him to attempt a fatal strike.

Frieza did not turn to see the Grand Zenos erase his beautiful diamond from reality. His eyes instead blankly traced the pattern of the void. He could not turn from the sounds, the words of Frost’s destruction; they echoed through his hollow chest no matter how much he tried to shut them out. And then it was done. The pale skin that had writhed beneath his hand, the firm lips that had pressed against every inch of his body, all was gone forever. For a fleeting moment, the ghost of a tail wrapped around his own; soon that was gone as well.

Hollow, cold, Frieza strode to rejoin the battle. He never once looked back to see the trail of blood left by his dripping heart.

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK AT THIS FACE and tell me Frieza didn't have it bad
> 
> Anyway, if you want more Author's Notes you can [check them out here](https://avechameleon.blogspot.com/2021/01/heart-of-ice.html).


End file.
